


The Monster They Call Anxiety

by Noon30ish



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Body Image, Bulimia, Fluff, I'm Sorry, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Showers, Sorry Not Sorry, my first Viktuuri post and its angsty as hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-09-01 01:14:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8601442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noon30ish/pseuds/Noon30ish
Summary: Yuuri always struggled with his weight. Viktor didn't know exactly how much he was struggling, though, until just before the Rostelecom Cup.
Set after episode 7 with a flashback to episode 5.





	

The water that swirled across the ceramic was acrid. Yuuri’s nose crinkled as he coughed, the bitter taste of an empty stomach on his lips. He knew he shouldn’t have eaten that bowl of shrimp.

It had been a small bowl of plain shrimp that his mother had prepared as a snack after his morning training session. Viktor only mentioned in passing that he was going to the hot springs since he hadn’t had the chance to do so before their practice. Yuuri, though grateful, knew that if he wasn’t watched when he ate, he would consume more than he intended. He’d been at his pre-Grand Prix weight for months now, athletically fit and moderately toned, but food still held a special place in his heart. But what it did to his body, he couldn’t forgive.

Another finger, another wretch, another flush.

He had to stay small. Get smaller, even. He could fit into Viktor’s smaller, more intricate costumes then. If he didn’t stay this size, Viktor would forbid Yuuri from being on the ice again. Or worse yet, Viktor would threaten to leave again. Yuuri knew deep down Viktor wouldn’t leave, he knew, he _knew_ , but the thought teased his consciousness, debated resurfacing.

He had some time before the Rostelecom Cup, and Viktor wasn’t letting up on the practices. He always said he wouldn’t take it easy on Yuuri. And Yuuri wouldn’t have had it any other way, either. But anxiety didn’t just disappear because he willed it.

The anxiety only shifted, writhing under his skin and rearing its ugly head before he could properly recognize and deal with it.

Another wretch. Another flush.

He took off his shirt and wiped his mouth with it, knowing he’d wash it later to erase the evidence. This wasn’t his first time trying to keep the calories off his body.

When did it start, he mused. Just after his qualifying skate competition, he was sure. It definitely wasn’t after winning Viktor over Yurio’s Agape performance. Yuuri had been ecstatic then. No, it started just before the Cup of China. He couldn’t back down from the new challenge. He finally had Viktor to coach him and he had repaid the Russian with imperfect performances. This twisted new tradition, barging into bathrooms and keeling over the toilet to be rid of digesting anything more than was necessary, was part of what fueled him in the Cup of China. And he’d done it. His skating had been nearly perfect.

Nearly. “Nearly” was what allowed Viktor to return his affections, the kiss still a hot memory on Yuuri’s lips, but “nearly” didn’t return his mentality to a state of relief.

* * *

Yes, it was after winning his qualifying competition. Viktor had taken a dazed and blush-dusted Yuuri home to a family feast. Viktor’s arm didn’t leave his shoulder, settling him down in the common area at the head of the table, a bowl of _katsudon_ settled in front of him by a wonderful ever-doting mother. Cheers and pats on the back jostled his hair, pieces falling out of their slicked state and framing his forehead. Infectious smiles kept his from disappearing throughout the night, but it didn’t stop his thoughts from roaming over Viktor’s approvals and ministrations. He’d told Yuuri that he could eat all the food he wanted tonight: it was his prize for winning. That had been their agreement. Every bite Yuuri took tasted like heaven, but even heaven couldn’t compare to the nightmare of Viktor’s watchful gaze. Yuuri was sure he hadn’t been imagining it: there must have been disappointment lurking behind the mirthful eyes of his coach. There must have been.

After everyone had settled down, and celebrations had returned to sleepy relaxation, the tired air of hearts overspent sent people to their rooms. Viktor, drunk and touchy, had to be ushered off with Yuuri holding him up. The smell of _sake_ and his ever-present cologne that reminded Yuuri of a mixture of pine forests and a sandy beach during the winter flooded his nostrils. Yuuri would willingly drown in this scent.

“Yuuuurriii, will you shleep with me tuh-nnight?” Viktor sing-songed, his arm that was draped over Yuuri’s shoulders coming up to ghost his hand by the skater’s cheek. Fingers lightly grazed his heated complexion. The touch wasn’t totally unwelcome, but Yuuri stammered anyway.

“Vi-Viktor, you’re too drunk.”

“But you di’n’t say nooo _oooo_ ,” Viktor leaned against him more heavily. The Russian’s lips whispered against the baby hairs near Yuuri’s ear, tickling him pleasantly, “I pruh-miss I wun’t tuch anywhere you dun wan—”

“ _Viktor_ ,” Yuuri warned, his voice struggling to stay low, “I’ve never said yes before. What makes you think I’d say yes now?”

Viktor’s next sentence was so slurred that Yuuri had to ask him to repeat himself as the bedroom door was opened.

Russian spilled from his mouth with far more finesse. “ _I won’t even touch your stomach if you still think it’s pudgy. I don’t think it’s pudgy. Come on, I promise I’ll be good._ ”

Yuuri blinked. “ _What?_ ” His Japanese slipping in surprise. He didn’t know a lot of Russian, only what Viktor had taught him during practice breaks. And those words had been… Yuuri’s cheeks burned as he stopped them in front of Viktor’s bed. Shaking his head, he tried again in English. “Can you still speak English, Viktor?”

Viktor glared at him, drunkenness still dampening his judgment. “I sshhaid, I wun’t tuch yur pudgy tummy, Piggy. I pro—”

Yuuri shoved Viktor onto his bed and slammed the door shut before Viktor could register that he was now alone. The younger skater’s body couldn’t keep up with his mind as he stumbled over himself, making his way to the bathroom and promptly lifting his shirt, glaring at the mirror.

His mind consumed his vision, rearranging the truth and forcing him to see a monster that never existed. But in his heart, a real monster nonetheless.

This monster gripped his head, piercing his temples and whispering endless fears into the ear that Viktor had so generously breathed on moments ago. It pushed his head down to the toilet and snaked spindly claws around Yuuri’s hand, guiding it to the back of his throat.

The monster demanded to be fed and Yuuri conceded, his anxiety overcoming him in a moment of weakness that stretched out into the months ahead.

* * *

He flicked the shower knob and continued undressing, attempting and failing not to look down at his body. Constellations of pale purple streaks painted the skin pulled taut over his hipbones and down his thighs. His stomach was nowhere near flat, not in the way he’d been hoping that it would be. Bile trickled up to the back of his throat and his resolve dissipated into the toilet bowl again.

“Yuuuuuuurrriiiiiii?” A familiar voice echoed behind the too-thin door.

Panic settled into Yuuri’s palpitating heart and kept the drum beating heavy. He jumped into the shower and closed the curtain, in hindsight wishing that his parents had installed a door for the shower instead of the flimsy, secret-revealing sheets. Scalding spears seared his shoulder blades— he’d forgotten to change the water’s temperature— and he raked his fingers into his hair. A shadow crept onto his shoulders, claws digging into the muscle. Ears rang with the constant splattering of high-pressure droplets and the ragged breaths that escaped his lips.

_Please don’t come in, please don’t come in, please don_ —

The door slip open. “Yuuri, if you were gonna shower, you could have told me. I would’ve held off on the hot springs until you were ready. It’s not li—”

It was at that moment that Yuuri realized he forgot to flush. Hurriedly, he peeked his head out with a blush on his cheeks he hoped that Viktor would attribute to the hot water. “Viktor! D-didn’t anyone ever teach you how to knock?!”

But Viktor wasn’t listening. He was staring at the toilet. His face, normally composed and unassuming, was— simply for lack of a better word— _torn_. “Yuuri…” his dark tone was pale in comparison to the darkness overtaking his eyes. “Yuuri, are you sick?”

Although Yuuri believed Viktor already knew the answer, he jumped at his conclusion for him. “Y-yes! I wasn’t feeling the greatest this morning, I-I guess. And I think, well, maybe all the jumps I did just turned my stomach the wrong way. I overdid—”

Viktor, meanwhile, had walked up to the curtain and leaned down to see eye-to-eye with Yuuri. “Yuuri, stop lying to me.”

“Heh?!” Yuuri blanched, fingers gripping the curtain tighter around himself. “I-I’m not, why would you say—”

“You used the same excuse last week when I asked you why you were in the bathroom for so long. And the week before that. You’re bad at keeping secrets, Yuuri,” Viktor continued listing off the evidence as he ripped the curtain from Yuuri’s shocked fingers, revealing a man that was trying to fold in on himself, trying to disappear.

Yuuri shivered, the rush of cold air blowing across his skin, contrasting with the venomous heat of the shower, making him painfully aware of the state of his body. He was sure Viktor could see the shameful excuse of a skater’s body. He tugged at the shower curtain, but Viktor’s grip was iron.

“V-v-viktor…” tears welled in his waterline and the monster clawed at his throat, stifling his will to speak.

Viktor’s brows furrowed in concern. Stepping inside the shower, he grasped Yuuri’s hand that still held the curtain and cornered him, his other hand bracing the wet tile behind Yuuri’s head. He ignored the hot water soaking his robes and hair.

“I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on, Yuuri.” The water didn’t reach Yuuri anymore. “Didn’t I say I’d support you?” Yuuri’s body grew cold. “How can I do that if you don’t trust me?”

Yuuri averted his coach’s gaze and muttered something in Japanese.

“Hmm?” Viktor probed, inching closer.

“ _You’ll get your hot springs robes wet,_ ” his Japanese refused to acknowledge Viktor’s lack of understanding.

Viktor’s face twisted into something horrifyingly pained and Yuuri’s heart wanted to break. It would break if he kept looking at those sad blue eyes. “Yuuri, I know I’m bad at dealing with others’ emotions, I _know_ I’m bad at helping you with your anxiety, but _I know_ when something bothers you. Let. Me. _Help._ ” His voice was stretched thin.

“ _Just… let me try…_ ” Viktor spoke softly in Russian, trying vainly to keep his emotions under control. Yuuri needed a rock to hold against the current, not another waterfall that would drown him further.

A silence of two kinds followed. The silent embarrassment hung in the steam that clung to their vision. It covered the space between them, thick and unyielding. The second silence, the silence of the naked truth, bore its negativity in their gaze as Yuuri faced Viktor, seeing the bead of sweat high on his temple, the thin, wavering line of his lips, and the glassy reflection in his eyes. Close to shattering. The shower was a distant static in their minds.

“... You said I couldn’t skate if I didn’t keep my weight down,” Yuuri began, a tear sliding down his cheek. _I've always thought I was weak..._  “Then you proceeded to call me ‘Piggy’ and say that my stomach was ‘pudgy.’”

Viktor didn’t react, so Yuuri continued. _I’ve always thought I was weak, and..._

“I know you won’t leave, we’ve been over that. I know that you care, but when you said _that_ — I—”

“—When did I say any of that?” Viktor cut in, his face unbearably close.

Yuuri let out a slow, shaky breath and recounted the incident. As Viktor recalled his drunken mishap, the agony on his face became more observable, if that had been possible.

“My… I mistranslated my Russian.” Viktor retranslated for him, realizing that what he’d really said hadn’t exactly helped, either. “Yuuri… Yuuri, I’m sorry.”

But Yuuri was already crying, tear streaks replacing the streaks that once belonged to the shower’s caresses. _I’ve always thought I was weak, and you can’t always fix that…_ “I don’t care if you didn’t mean it. My mind ran away with the worst of it and I couldn’t stop it. It’s not a secret that I struggle with my weight, but I never let it bother me so much before. But… it’s just like at the Cup of China. My performances, my _looks_ are indicative of you as a coach, and I don’t want to bring your reputation down.”

“You haven’t done that, Yuuri—”

“I KNOW THAT,” Yuuri croaked out of a sob, harsher than he intended. _I’ve always thought I was weak, and you can’t always fix that, but…_ “But when I’m told I have to do something to keep skating, I’m going to go all out to keep skating. You told me I had to bring my weight down, and I have. I’ve been working out and restricting myself. But then you waltzed in after my victory with food and told me I could have it again, and I didn’t know what to do.” Yuuri began to hyperventilate but he couldn’t stop. “I didn’t want to eat it because I thought you would’ve seen the old me again, and I didn’t want that. So I ate it to keep appearances and I was disgusted with myself and then you said _that_ which basically confirmed what I’d been thinking and I only did it once but something told me it was helping and I kept doing it because the thought of losing you terrified me and—”

Viktor’s lips silenced him briefly. It was barely pressed, almost nonexistent, but Yuuri closed his eyes and collected his thoughts. Completely different from their first, rather rushed and bruising, kiss on the ice in front of the whole world, but just as supportive. _I’ve always thought I was week, and you can’t always fix that, but you’re here with me anyway._

He opened his eyes again, the familiar green robe and pale skin still inches from him. Certain patches were darker where the water from the shower soaked through, and Yuuri focused on those spots intently. “You… you didn’t even ask to kiss me this time.”

“It wasn’t to shut you up,” Viktor reassured, dropping his hands to his sides. He wasn’t about to mention the fact that their first actual kiss wasn’t asked for, either. “I just wanted you to take a second to breathe. I apologize if it was poorly timed. Please, continue to cuss me out.”

Yuuri twiddled his fingers, eyes still averting him. “This won’t go away just because you kiss me. It won’t go away because you… have feelings for me. It probably won’t go away for awhile. Or maybe ever. But… You just have to—”

“—stay close to you. Right?” Viktor finished for him.

At their common understanding, Yuuri’s earthen eyes flitted back to Viktor’s skies. “Stay close to me, Viktor.” _I’ve always thought I was weak, and you can’t always fix that, but you’re here with me anyway. And that’s what matters._

It wasn’t said as a plea. It wasn’t said in fear. Viktor saw something reawaken. Yuuri’s eyes were alight with determination placed in faith. And Viktor wanted to imprint this look in his memory.

“May I kiss you?” Viktor whispered, raising a hand to cup Yuuri’s cheek, a wet thumb swiping over the dried tear trails.

Yuuri tilted his head to the touch, eyes never leaving Viktor’s. A slight but sure nod was the only answer he needed. Yuuri put his hand on Viktor’s and leaned upward, waiting for Viktor to meet him halfway.

Just like Viktor always did.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope I've done everything proper justice! I wrote it in like two hours instead of doing any of my 40+ page Term Papers due in a week.
> 
> I remembered seeing a post on Tumblr somewhere asking for someone to write a fic about Yuuri having an eating disorder and Viktor finding out. I haven't written in ages but I have about 1001 ideas for this ship and I needed to start somewhere. I want someone to talk to about these ideas! ;-;


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